


To be Human

by acoolgirl



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: Child Abuse, Drama, F/M, Family, Hopeful Ending, Imprisonment, Mystery, PTSD, Poverty, Self-Harm, Suicidal Thoughts, mentioned abortion, pregnancy from rape
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-06
Updated: 2018-05-18
Packaged: 2019-03-01 03:11:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 4
Words: 20,320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13285731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/acoolgirl/pseuds/acoolgirl
Summary: Angel or tortured ghost, Gale Hawthorne isn't sure which best describes Madge Undersee after seeing her for the first time in seven years-all he knows is that he must see her again.Complete.





	1. Chapter 1

Gale overslept.

Before, in what seemed like a lifetime ago in 12, he had little choice in when he had to wake up. He was forced to rise early, whether it was for school, hunting, and then later, the mines. Then the world ended and life restarted in 13, where once again, the rigid schedules etched onto his arms dictated which minute he slept, and which he rose.

When he had first moved to 2, he never slept. His nights were long, endless stretches of dark torment, as his mind replayed the bombs falling, over and  _over_ again. It’s why he can never be in a quiet room: there’s nothing to silence the screaming of children burning alive.

Children  _he_ burnt alive.

But then, he was prescribed a drug that carefully regulated his sleep. He would pop one in before he went to bed, and the next day, without fail, he would rise at 4 a.m., his required 8 hours complete.

Today, however, he had no idea what had crept into his body that made him rise at  _11_ , a full  _seven_ hours later than his normal wake up time.

It was nearing noon when he finally reached City Hall. He wasn’t a civilian, but after years of active-duty, Gale had decided since his life was meaningless now, he might as well take an easier job. So he was located from 2’s Army Base (it had been relocated from The Nut, thankfully), and to City Hall.

The Hall itself was rather beautiful. Gale didn’t care, but it was apparently styled after Ancient Roman architecture, with its columns and engravings. It was loud and always busy, but as long as it wasn’t underground, Gale could handle it.

He rushes into the Hall, in a hurry to make it to his noon meeting. He knows that he won’t be reprimanded for being late, hell, there aren’t many people that outrank him that  _can_ , but Gale needs his life to be perfectly scheduled. There can’t be moments of idlery or leisure. There can’t.

He’s not a person, just a body waiting to die and receive his punishment since he got off in this life. The waiting seems shorter when he’s busy.

He’s just about made it to glass-door elevators that’ll carry him to the top floor when he suddenly has to stop since a young girl in front of him drops her toy.

“Excuse me,” he says, looking down at the girl as he side-steps her.

He looks back up, and is close enough to the elevator that he can make out some of the occupants.

Gale stops walking as if his mind can no longer send signals to his legs.

There, just a few feet from him stands a ghost.

She stares back, a cold expression on her face. She looks older, which makes no sense since dead people don’t age- yet there she is, her hair tied back in a neat bun, a plain blue t-shirt on top of her jeans and a brown purse slung over her shoulder.

Before his mind is able to regain the ability to function normally again, the glass-doors slide close, sealing her off from him, but still in his sight. He watches as she rises above him, like a departing angel, her blue eyes never leaving his once.

The moment is gone once the elevator is too high up for him to see who’s in it, jarring him back to his senses. Immediately, he turns around and sprints towards the security room.

“General Hawthorne!” one of the guards squeaks when he slams the door open. One of the only perks of being famous is that you don’t have to explain yourself. You just arrive and have people at your ready. “What can we do for you?”

“I need to see the CCTV feeds in front of every elevator entrance  _now_ ,” Gale instructs in a tight voice. It can’t be her. He just needs to see her again to confirm that it  _can't_ be her.

“Uh, well about that,” another one of the guards begins nervously, scratching his balding head. “Couple of teenage punks all the way over in 3 have been hacking our feeds for fun lately and we-”

“Do you or do you not have the feeds?” Gale barks, interrupting his long-winded explanation.

“N-no sir,” the first guard stutters, face bright red.

“Useless,” Gale mutters as he hastily exits the office and runs to his office. He finds that he can’t take the elevator, not when  _she_ had been standing there just moments ago. So he takes the stairs, two at a time, until he’s finally at the tenth floor, where he barges through the hallways, ignoring every greeting and question until he finally reaches his unnecessarily large office.

He hates computers and uses them only when he’s forced to, but today he’s thankful for the sleek and shiny one that sits atop its desk, with its access to some of Panem’s most classified documents.

It takes several minutes of logins and security questions, but he finally accesses Panem’s civilian database. His fingers, for some reason, shake, as he types in a name he hasn’t thought of in seven years.

Immediately, a box pops up:

_No results found_

Gale curses as he remembers that Madge wasn’t her real name. Katniss, oh God, when was the last time he had allowed himself to use her name? She had once told him in passing when he had mocked Madge’s name, that it was a nickname

But a nickname for what? Gale presses a hand against his forehead and shuts his eyes tightly as he tries desperately to remember. Miranda? Megan? Matilda? Margaret?

Margaret! That had been her name. He closes the popup and deletes Madge and replaces it with Margaret, and impatiently hits search.

The screen loads for several moments before it finally retrieves the requested data.

A sepia-tinted photo of 16 years old Madge Undersee smiles sweetly at him from his glaring screen.

She looks so 12 it actually makes his  _chest_ ache-from the low-quality photo due to the shitty cameras they had, to the ribbon Merchant girls used to wear tying their hair back, and the conservative schoolgirl outfit on her thin frame.

Her face is open and her eyes are bright, nothing at all like the woman he had just seen, who had looked colder than ice.

The screaming is replaced with a loud buzzing as if cotton has been stuffed into his ears and his head shoved underwater, as he hesitantly scrolls down. He doesn’t know why, but he’s almost  _afraid_ to see what’s written in her file.

_Name: Margaret Undersee_

_District: 12_

_Status: Deceased_

_Notes: Daughter of Mayor David Undersee. Friend of Katniss Everdeen. Was original gifter of Mockingjay Pin. Killed in the Great 12 Bombings._

Gale barely has time to reach the wastebasket before he violently vomits.

* * *

For a week, Gale stalks the entrance of the City Hall at 11 a.m sharp, and waits and waits and  _waits_ for her to return. Having never taken a single sick day or vacation in the past seven years, he figures he has enough time off for him to pace around like a madman as he hunts a phantom, and sure enough, no one bothers him, though, once he does return to his office, defeated and more than a little closer to punching a hole into a wall, his co-workers stare at him as if he’s unhinged.

Maybe he is. After all, it isn’t often when you see the face of a girl you let die. Not while you’re awake, at least.

He finally gives in and accepts that she probably won’t come back anyway, and tries out a new tactic.

“What date did the person in question go missing?” the police force had sent out two young cops, both were probably around Rory’s age. The boy was thin and sickly looking, and the girl had bright blue hair that matched the bubblegum she was very loudly chewing. God help the people of Panem if this was what supposed to be protecting them.

“Seven years ago,” Gale answers the boy, feeling a bit self-conscious at their incredulous looks. “The night 12 was bombed.”

The two share a look that Gale does not appreciate one bit.

“Listen, General,” the girl begins, as if she’s talking to some decrepit old man. “The chances of someone making it out that night that didn’t go to 13, are very slim.”

“I  _know_ that!” Gale snaps, livid that they’re explaining a fact he knows all too well. “But I  _saw_ her last Monday, almost 12 pm, here in the lobby. She must be going by another name.”

“And you’re sure it just wasn’t a look-alike?” the boy asks thoughtfully. “There are a lot of those.”

“No,” Gale shakes his head. “She was glaring at me.”

At their confused looks, Gale knows he has to explain.

“We….had a history,” Gale admits, not looking at either of them. “We didn’t really get along in the past.”

“So why the sudden need to know where she is?” the girl almost demands. “If she was glaring at you, it sounds like she doesn’t want to be found!”

“Because….because she’s from home,” Gale sighs, closing his eyes. How can he make these two kids understand? “I just need to know if she’s ok.”

Neither cop says anything for a while, and when he looks up, the boy is doing something on his tablet, and the girl is watching him carefully.

“So she was 16 seven years ago, right?” the boy asks, looking up from his tablet. When Gale nods, he continues. “Got it. Mind if I use your printer?”

Gale nods once more, and after a few minutes, the machine makes a loud whirring noise, and a single sheet of paper comes out. Since he’s closest, he pulls it out of its tray, the paper still warm.

_Have you seen me?_

_call 1-800-1234_

Below the title and header it the only picture in Madge’s file, but edited to look older. Gale has to admit, it looks fairly accurate, considering how low quality the picture was.

“We’ll post these around the District,” the boy tells them. “And have the force familiarized with it so they can be on lookout during patrols.”

“Thank you,” Gale says honestly. He knows the only reason why they’re agreeing to this is because of his rank, but he’s grateful nevertheless.

“Respect her boundaries,” the girl cuts in sharply. “I meant it when I said she might not want to be found.”

“I know,” Gale growls, not appreciating being told to do by someone so much younger than him. “You two are dismissed.”

The boy gives a tight smile and the girl a poorly concealed sneer, but they leave.

Now, to wait.

* * *

Dead or alive, if there’s one thing Madge is good at, it’s getting under his skin.

The pills don’t work anymore. He’s up again all night, except instead of his bomb, it’s the one Snow sent in: the ones that had destroyed 12. If he’s not thinking about that night, he’s thinking about Madge, how untouchable she had been right up until the moment when she had died, like china glass that would shatter if his filthy fingers skimmed her skin. .

He also starts up an old and very destructive habit:

Drinking.

He can’t help it. He feels as if his bones are going to crawl out of his skin if he doesn’t find her soon. It’s different than the pain of the bomb. At least with that, he knows what he’s done, and that hellfire awaits him. But with Madge, it’s just question after fucking question mark, and all the waiting sometimes makes it hard to even breathe properly.

Did she resent him for not saving her? Did she know that he tried? That he had wanted to save every fucking Merchant there was? Did she know a bomb nearly killed him when he went back? Did she know after the bomb that killed Prim, that night was his greatest failure?

The hard liquor burns as it goes down his throat and the questions only intensify, as do the violent images behind his eyes.

* * *

He’s technically working. A better definition would be him staring at the paperwork in front of him while his mind detaches itself from his body.

“General?”

Gale looks up to see the pretty face of his secretary. Back when Gale still had a soul, he would have taken her for a trip to the Slag Heap, but since the war ended, the only sleep he gets is the solo kind-if he’s lucky.

“I have a call waiting for you on line three,” she tells him, tucking a stray strand of brown hair behind her ear. “She wouldn’t say who she was, but demanded to speak to you.”

Gale doesn’t allow himself to hope anymore, but something light still fits his chest.

“Thank you,” Gale tells her quickly. “I’ll take it.”

The secretary (he doesn’t even know her name) takes the hint and nods, closing the door behind her.

Gale takes a deep breath before lifting the phone from its receiver and putting it to his ear.

“Hello?”

_“Where do you get off? You had no right to put up posters with my picture on them!”_

“Madge,” Gale chokes, unable to believe he’s actually  _talking_ to her. She’s alive. She’s  _alive_! Her voice is almost the same as it was when she was 16, airy and light, though at the moment it’s shrill with anger.

_“Leave me alone.  I have a nice life here, and I don’t need you messing it up.”_

“I won’t!” Gale quickly assures her. “I just wanted to make sure you were ok….I- I thought you were dead.”

The line is silent for a moment, and he can barely make out the sound of streetcars in the background.

_“Well, I’m not. Now tell the police to call off their manhunt and stop bothering me.”_

“Wait!” Gale exclaims. “I’ll do all of that, promise, but can we meet up? Just once? I swear I won’t ask to meet again.”

_“No.”_

The line goes dead.

* * *

It takes only a phone call for the line to be traced, and Gale is there about 20 minutes later. He isn’t optimistic that Madge is still hanging around, but it’s the only lead he has on her, and he can’t let her slip through his fingers.

He realizes that he’s acting like a stalker creep, but it was when she had hung up on him and he had been able to think about their short conversation more in-depth did he realize how...hollow Madge had sounded. She was lying to him when she said she was ok. And Gale couldn’t be ok with that.

2’s Southside is definitely on the poorer side, which is evident by the more cramped, poorly maintained buildings, trash overflowing every corner, and the hateful looks people loitering around give him.

He realizes with a start that he’s now the Merchant boy, wandering into Seam.

He walks aimlessly, trying to wonder what Madge would be doing in a place like this. Surely she wouldn’t live somewhere so dangerous- she had just gone there to throw him off her trail. She had, after all, deduced it was him looking for her without even talking to him.

Unconsciously, his feet have led him to a nearby park, and he walks with his hands deep in his pockets, growing more and more uncomfortable as he nears a playground.

He can’t do children. That’s why he hasn’t seen his own siblings in seven years. How can he look into the smiling face of an innocent child without being reminded that he killed hundreds of kids? Not that he isn’t constantly remembering.

But something propels him forward, so he doesn’t turn around.  

A group of boys are playing soccer in the field across from the playground, and one of them misses his kick, and the ball ends up soaring in the wrong direction, landing just a few feet away from him and rolling to a stop right in front of him.

Gale just stares at the ball. Does he kick it back? Throw it back? Continue walking? Go home and down a bottle of vodka because  _fuck_ if he can look at a kid in the face.

He isn’t able to make a decision in time, because a young boy, no older than seven runs up and grabs the ball, though not before looking up at Gale.

He’s a handsome boy, with dark hair and blue eyes. He has a sharp nose and chin, but lips that are almost girly in how full they are. Instead of the typical smile he was expecting, the boy’s hooded eyes, which naturally make him look angry, looks downright furious as his thin eyebrows dip down in a frown.

“Excuse me mister, but if you don’t watch where you’re going you’ll get hit in the head,” the boy informs him exasperatedly, as if he’s the adult, and Gale’s the child.

“Thanks for the tip,” Gale mutters, not yet freaking out since the kid in front of him hardly  _reminds_ him of a kid, just a shrunk down adult.

“Glen?”

Both Gale and Glen turn at the sound of the voice, Glen in familiarity, and Gale in surprise.

Standing just a little aways from them is Madge, her lips pressed into a thin line as she watches them both with a closed expression.

“Don’t worry Mommy,” Glen assures her sweetly. “I know I’m not s’pposed to talk to strangers. I was just helping him.”

“This is your  _son_?” Gale nearly shouts in surprise. Madge Undersee has a  _son?_

“You know him, Mommy?” Glen asks with large eyes.

“Throwback the stinking ball!” one of the boys that had been playing soccer with Glen yells.

“Yes,” Madge answers stiffly as Glen runs to return the ball. “He is. Now get the  _hell_ away from me and my family.”

Gale looks around wildly but finds that there isn’t a man in sight, just a bunch of mom’s with their kids.

“Where’s your husband?” Gale asks confusedly.

“Who are you, Mister?” Glen asks, having returned from giving the ball back. “Huh, Mommy?”

“He went to school with Mommy,” Madge answers patiently, though her voice is strained. Technically, she’s telling the truth. “Now come on Glen, it’s almost dinnertime.”

Madge reaches forward to grab his hand, but Glen ducks and runs over to Gale, clinging to his leg.

“Wait!” Glen practically wails. “So you knew my Mommy from when The Spider with 75 Legs and Queen Bee was still alive?”

“What?” Gale asks, growing more and more confused by the minute. It suddenly registered that Glen, if he really was seven, he had been conceived in 12.

“Glen, we are leaving  _now_ ,” Madge says sternly, forcibly extracting her son from Gale’s leg and picking him up, much to the child’s distress.

“No!” Glen cries, reaching out and trying to grab Gale. Gale can’t remember the last time a child had wanted to be near him. It must have been Posy, over seven years ago. “You can help Mommy!”

“Help with what?” Gale asks immediately, taking a step forward, only to be met by a vicious glare by Madge.

“Glen that is  _enough_!” Mage yells, startling both of them. If the way Glen’s teary eyes widen is any indication, it’s clear that Madge doesn’t raise her voice often.

Gale doesn’t follow, but Glen watches him with a sad expression over his Mom’s shoulder until they’re both too far away.

Gale wonders why there’s no relief in knowing there’s no way Glen could be his son.

* * *

There are over 156 seven years old boys in District 2 with the first name Glen, and none of them is the one he’s looking for.

As he clicks on the last  _Glen, 7,_ he wonders irritatedly if Madge had also named her son something, but called him by another name.

With a sigh, he goes back and changes the 7 to a 6, and begins the process all over again. He’s reached about the 40th Glen, when a name makes him pause.

_Glen Donner_

Could it be Donner...as in Donner Sweets? The only way he even remembers the name is from all the times Posy would beg him to take her to the small sweet shop, and how awful he would feel each time he would have to say no.

Skipping the other names, Gale clicks on  _Glen Donner_ if only because that’s the only 12 name he’s seen so far.

Sure enough, Madge’s son pops up. So the kid  _was_ made during the rebellion. Gale doesn’t know how to feel about that. He scrolls down past his picture.

_Name: Glen Donner_

_Status: Alive_

_DOB: February. Date, Unknown. Year, 76._

_Parents: Father, unknown. Mother, Margaret Donner._

_School: Public School 231_

_Notes: Margaret Donner’s dependant, and recipient of Families of Tomorrow Welfare_

Something had to be seriously wrong here. Madge Undersee was  _not_ the kind of girl to get knocked up by a stranger, and not even know the day her kid was born. He had hardly talked to her when they were teenagers, but even he knew this much.

His arms felt heavy with dread when he typed in Margaret Donner. Only one result showed up. He clicked it. It was an older picture of Madge. She still looked older than her 12 photo, but that was hardly what he could focus on.

She looked like a corpse.

Her cheeks were gaunt and colorless, her lip split and a bruise coloring her right temple. Her hair was mangled and uncombed. But it was her eyes that made Gale’s skin crawl. Her blue eyes almost looked colorless as she stared into the camera with an expression that could only be described as one word:

Dead.

Gale bit down on his tongue as he scrolled down.

_Name: Margaret Donner_

_Status: Alive_

_DOB: Undisclosed. 23 years old._

_Occupation: Teacher_

_Parents: Unknown_

_Spouse: None_

_Children: Glen Donner_

_Notes: Suspected to have been captured and brought to 2 unwillingly, Donner refused to comply with authorities after the Capitol’s fall, and was granted amnesty because her newborn son was born in 2.  Recorded to have initially spoken with a distinct 12 accent, but when this was pointed out, Donner immediately executed a perfect 2 accent. There are no records of a Miss. Margaret Donner in 12, or any other District, before or after the Great Revolution. Recipient of Families of Tomorrow Welfare._

Gale goes to another database where he retrieved her address. He drives there in a haze, and sits outside her crumbling apartment complex all night, wondering who had killed Madge Undersee, and how she had survived.

* * *

“Call on line 3,” Lina (he had finally learned her name) tells him. “It’s from a Miss. Donner.”

“Thank you,” Gale says, unable to conceal his shock. “Anything else?”

“No sir,” Lina shakes her head and closes the door, though not before giving him a strange look.

There’s no hesitation when he picks up the phone this time; he’s been aching to speak with Madge, and is glad she reached out to him before he did something rash, like knock on her door.

_“I take it that you know all there is about my son and I.”_

“I don’t Madge,” Gale tells her honestly. “If anything, I’m even more perplexed, if you could just tell me-”

_“Who destroyed 2’s army base, the one in the mountain, during the rebellion?”_

Gale blinks. He had been expecting a lot of things, but not to be cut off to be asked  _that_.

“13 did,” Gale answered slowly.

_“Obviously. What I’m asking- who’s_ idea  _was it?”_

Gale swallows tightly, his palms suddenly damp.

_“Gale?”_

He closes his eyes. The sound of her voice saying his name as an unnamable effect on him

“It was mine.”

_“I thought so.”_

“Why did y-”

_“So if this is all about the morphling, consider your debt repaid. You saved my life when you blew up the base, so we’re even now.”_

“Morphling?” Gale repeats, totally at a loss.

_“Yes, morphling. Now that we’ve established this, I had better not see you again, and I mean that Gale. I just want a normal life for my son, and I can’t have that if you keep barging in.”_

“Just one meeting,” Gale begs. “That’s all I ask. I need to know what happened to you.”

_“Hell, Gale. I went to Hell. But I came back, and that’s what matters.”_

* * *

He’s been pacing the length of his apartment hallway for the past 20 minutes, trying to summon courage.

It was pathetic, he knew, for a grown man to find it difficult to pick up the phone and call his own mom, but that’s where he is, and Gale’s pride dissipated a long time ago. He knows what he is.

Frustrated, he yanks the phone off the wall and holds it in his hand for a few moments. He only talks to his mom once a year, on his birthday, when she calls him. He talks to Vick and Posy too, though Posy always goes last since she just melts into tears after a few minutes. Rory never comes to the phone. Gale never asks for Rory.

Taking a deep breath, he dials in the number and waits anxiously as the dial tone goes through.

_“Hello?”_

Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry.

“Hi, Ma.”

_“Gale! Is everything alright? You never call!”_

“I’m fine Ma, promise,” Gale chuckles weakly. “I called to ask you a question.”

_“Well, I...what is it sweetheart?”_

“What does Madge Undersee have to do with the morphling?”

_“Where is this coming from Gale? You’ve never brought...her, up before.”_

“I just need to know, ok?” Gale nearly snaps. He doesn’t need his Ma to know that he’s been obsessing over Madge Undersee for the past few months.

_“Come home. Come home and I’ll answer your question.”_

“Seriously Ma?” Gale says angrily. “What’s so secretive that you can’t tell me without blackmailing me?

_"She made me promise not to tell you. I think I deserve a visit for breaking a promise.”_

Gale knows he’s already lost the battle. Seam folk value their honor above all else, and to break a promise is one of the biggest sins one can commit.

“Ok,” Gale gives in, wondering if he’s lost his mind. He hasn’t been back to 12 since he had to shot a propo for 13. He couldn’t go back.  _She_ was there.

_“Really?”_ Ma asks excitedly.  _“Gale, do you mean it?”_

“I mean it,” Gale promises in a hollow voice. A part of him wants to strangle Madge, for making him go to such lengths to find out something she could very easily tell him herself.

_“The kids will be so happy!”_ Ma cheers.  _“When do you think you’ll come?”_

“Can you answer my question now?” Gale asks, exasperatedly. It’s been a long time since he’s felt like a bratty teenager, but he can’t help but sound like one at the moment.

He hears his Ma sigh.

_“She saved your life.”_

“...What _?!”_

_“That night, after you were whipped, she ran through the blizzard storm to give you her Mother’s morphling. It saved your life.”_

“Why?” Gale asks tightly as the world lurches violently.

_“She never said. Just made me promise not to tell you it was from her, and ran back home.”_

Gale doesn’t say anything. How can he? Madge had saved his life, when they had just been strangers, and he hadn’t been able to get her out in time, and  _something_  terrible happened to her.

_“What brought this up sweetheart?”_

“She’s alive,” Gale answers distractedly, mind still reeling from what he’s just learned.

“Ma, are you alright?” Gale asks in alarm as he hears his Ma begin to sob loudly.

_“She’s alive?”_ Ma sobs into the phone.

“Yes,” is all Gale can answer.

_“I should tell Katniss! She misses her so much, she’ll be so happy-”_

“No!” Gale quickly cuts his Ma off. “I don’t think Madge would want that. She changed her name and everything. She doesn’t want to be found.”

_“But she talks to you?”_

“No,” Gale admits, feeling stupidly embarrassed. “Well, not a lot.”

_“Madge lost everything in one night,”_ Ma reminds him gently.  _“I’m sure she’d appreciate a friend.”_

“I’m trying,” Gale growls. “She’s just really stubborn.”

_“Don’t push her, Gale,”_ Ma chides, as if he’s a young boy again.  _“Prove that you care. Actually, care. If you don’t, leave her alone.”_

“I do,” Gale says in a small voice. “I care. She’s a good person.”

_“She’s an angel.”_

* * *

Madge works at the same school Glen goes to, so every morning, mother and son set out together and walk the two blocks to the underfunded public school. The same is done at the end of the day, and that’s all he see’s of the two on weekdays. The first half of the weekend is always filled with errands: groceries, laundry, the works. Sunday, from what Gale observes from a creepy distance, is dedicated to Glen.

There’s also a woman that shares the apartment with the two. Nancy Wheeler. She’s older than Madge, and works at a clothing store down the street. What’s peculiar, though, is that some days, it’s Nancy that walks Glen to and from school, with Madge never to be seen.

This Tuesday is one of those days, and Gale decides that this is the best opportunity of any to finally talk to Madge.

He takes the steps two at a time until he’s standing outside of  _514_. The door is covered in scratches and the paint is peeling. The entire building smells of mold, and he hasn’t seen a single properly working light fixture yet.

He knocks twice and then waits. And waits.

He’s about to give up and just go home and pretend none of this ever happened, when the door opens, revealing a very ragged Madge.

She’s in a large t-shirt and pajama pants, and her hair is in a messy ponytail, but it’s the circles under her eyes that give away her exhaustion.

“Finally decided to swoop in?” Madge grumbles annoyedly, going back into her apartment, leaving a perturbed Gale at the door.

She hadn’t shut the door in his face, so he takes that as an invitation to enter.

There are two beds, neither very large, a ratty couch in front of a small tv, a rickety table next to an outdated kitchen, and a small playmat with a few toys in a corner. There’s also a bookshelf, brimmed with various texts, that stands out sharply against the general poverty of the apartment.

“It’s rude to stare,” Madge says acidly. Gale looks back at her and is surprised to find her back in bed, her covers pulled up to her chin, eyes shut.

“Are you alright?” Gale asks worriedly, wondering what’s the proper protocol for a situation like this.

“Migraine.”

“Oh,” Gale says awkwardly. “Anything I can do?”

“Get out,” Madge says, but not with any malice. She just sounds resigned.

Gale doesn’t respond and instead moves to the table, where he lifts a wooden chair and sets it down by the foot of her bed, so he can sit near her. He discovers that all four legs of the chair are wobbly once he sits.

He waits for Madge to say something, but she doesn’t, so he figures she’s giving him his time to speak.

“I didn’t know about the morphling,” Gale tells her. Her expression doesn’t change, but he notices that the covers on her body don’t rise from her breath for a moment. “At least, not until you mentioned it. I had to ask my Ma.”

“You said we’re even, but that’s not true,” Gale continues. “I understand I don’t know what you were doing in The Nut, but you risked your life to save mine when we were nothing but strangers. I blew up the place because it was wartime and I had an insatiable bloodlust. The two don’t compare.”

“If you still think I’m here just to repay a debt, I’ll leave,” Gale tells her honestly. “But it really isn’t like that. I don’t know why, but I just can’t….accept that you’re not happy and walk away.”

“Are you happy?”

“What?” Gale asks, surprised at her sudden question.

“I said,” Madge says slowly. “Are you happy?”

“Trust me,” Gale says bitterly. “How I feel is exactly what I deserve.”

Madge opens one eye at this, watching him closely. The blue is surrounded by swollen red blood vessels, and for a moment in the dim lighting of the apartment, it looks as if she’s crying tears of blood.

“I can’t talk right now,” Madge tells him, closing her eye.

“But you can later?” Gale asks hopefully. Madge doesn’t respond, which Gale assumes is an answer in itself. “That’s fine, I’ll go get you some soup-”

“No!” Madge suddenly shuts, sitting straight up and glaring at me. “I don’t want anything from you! Get out of my apartment before I change my mind!”

“Ok, ok!” Gale quickly gets up and holds out his hands in mock-surrender. “I’ll go then.”

Once the door is closed behind him and he’s back in the rancid smelling hallway, Gale pushes down his concern for Madge’s headaches and the childish excitement at the prospect of meeting her again.

* * *

“A pipe in the building burst,” Madge says as a way of explanation for her tardiness as she takes a seat on the bench next to him. “I had to stay behind and make sure the repairman actually fixed it, since Nancy is no good at those things.”

Madge had more or less told him to come to the park where he had met Glen, and to wait for her at the bench under “tree on the hill”. He had surprisingly been able to find the bench without much trouble.

“Ah,” Gale says, unsure if he should tell her he was worried out of his skin over her tardiness and had had half a mind to storm into her apartment and see that everything was alright.

The months have begun to dip into spring, and the days are growing both warmer and longer. As they sit side by side, the sun begins to make its descent, leaving the sky a warm red, and the sound of laughing children melts into the warm air.

“I don’t have all day,” Madge says snappishly, crossing her arms tightly over her chest. She’s wearing jeans again, but this time she’s wearing a decent blouse. Her hair is down too, gently curling. “I’ve never left Glen alone at home with Nancy before, and I have work tomorrow.”

He has so many questions for her, he doesn’t know where to start. So he settles for the most mysterious one.

“How did you escape 12?”

Madge’s face goes from impatient to unconcealable sorrow, which makes Gale very nearly apologize for asking.

Before he can, however, the sorrow is hidden, and replaced by fury.

“Why?” she spits, face growing red in indignation. “Why do you care at  _all?_  I’ve seen you, these past months, following me and Glen. Is this some sick game, getting off to how ‘the mighty have fallen’? Huh? I bet you’re  _reaal_ pleased to see the Mayor’s brat slumming it up. That’s what this all is about, isn’t it?”

Gale can only gape at her for a few moments, watching as her chest rises and falls quickly as she grows angrier and angrier.

“Shit, Madge, no!” Gale exclaims, shaking his head incredulously. “You want to know the truth? It’s because...because I thought I had let you die. You were part of the miserable truth that I have to carry for the rest of my life. That I let thousands of innocent people die that night. I’ve made so many mistakes in my life Madge, huge ones, with terrible consequences, but if I can make things right with you then maybe….maybe my existence isn’t a  _complete_ worthless shitstain.”

It’s Madge’s turn to look shocked. She looks away from him and stares down the grassy hill, where a couple strolls by hand-in-hand.

“Maybe it’s better for you to think I’m dead,” Madge says finally, still not looking at him. “You may like that lie better than  _my_ miserable truth.”

_“Never,”_  Gale says vehemently, surprising himself in how quickly he had responded to her claim. “I don’t want to think about you as dead ever again.”

Madge sighs, and looks back at him with sad eyes. “Are you sure?”

Gale nods vigorously, unconsciously leaning towards her.

“Well,” Madge says in an exhale. “I suppose it’s best to go back to the start.”

She leans back into the bench and crosses her legs, arms still around her chest as if she’s shielding herself from the world. A gentle breeze brushes past them, blowing past them and revealing her neck to him from where he sat.

“I had just delivered your morphling,” Madge begins, staring into the distance as if she is looking into the snow-covered streets of 12, not 2’s park. “It had been so cold. For a while, I thought I was going to die. But then I was able to make out my house in the near distance, so I sped up, relieved that the journey was nearly done.”

“But then out of nowhere, peacekeepers showed up,” Madge recounts, and Gale feels his heart plummet to his feet. She had been out there for  _him_. “It was too stormy to see clearly, so they grabbed me and hauled me back to the Justice Building.”

Madge closes her eyes before she says the next part.

“That was when I met Romulus Thread,” she whispers so quietly Gale can hardly hear her. The rush of his blood in his ears certainly don’t help. It’s been years, but even now, the sound of Thread’s name elicits a sharp reaction within him: pain, anger, and fear all competing within his veins to be the dominant emotion.

“I told him I had heard someone shouting for help, and that’s why I had been outside,” Madge continues, arms tightening their hold around her. “He had let me off easy, just a warning. I was confused, but so relieved. At the time, I had no idea he’d had an ulterior motive.”

“What?” Gale croaks, barely able to speak. His entire body is shaking, that’s how badly he’s terrified of hearing what’s coming next.

“The night the bombs fell, Thread came to my house and shot my Mother, Father, and housekeeper,” Madge tells him, tears filling up her eyes but not falling. “Three shots, and the only family I had ever known was gone forever.”

“Madge…” Gale whispers, opening and closing his mouth as he tries to think of what to say. He can’t.

“He took me with him,” Madge’s voice hardens as the tears begin to dry. “The evil... _bastard_ dragged me into his armored car, and took me with him.”

“Stop,” Gale says louder than he meant. He can barely breathe, that’s how angry and disgusted he is. “Thread brought you to 2?”

Madge just nods, watching him carefully.

“Madge,” Gale says desperately. Please please please don’t be what he’s thinking. “Who’s Glen’s father?”

This time the tears  _do_ fall over Madge’s eyes, down her cheeks, and that’s the only answer Gale needs.

“Why?” Gale shouts, leaping up. “Why didn’t get rid of it?”

“Glen is  _not_ an ‘it’!” Madge says angrily, eyes still glistening with tears. “He is my son and I love him more than my  _life_. If you want to hear the whole truth, you’ll sit down and say not another ill word against Glen!”

Gale can’t sit, not when he’s just found out that _Madge Undersee_ had been...defiled by the devil himself enough times to conceive his child, and said child was still  _alive._

How,  _how_ can there be so much evil in their small world? Why,  _why_ had Gale not been quick enough to save her from the bombs, to save her from  _him_. He feels as if his head is about to burst open as the screaming reaches new levels in loudness, and he sways dangerously on his feet.

He falls to his knees and heaves once, then twice, but only some spittle mixed with bile comes out: he hadn’t eaten anything all day, and nothing will come up. He’s such a miserable fucking failure, he can’t even throw up properly.

Once he’s done heaving, Madge retrieves a water bottle from her purse and hands it to him. He just shakes his head. Nothing will take away the taste of bile from his mouth. It feels as if a hole has been blown into his chest, and his body has lost all its ability to feel any sensation besides pain. Robotically, he sits back on his haunches and just looks at Madge, not saying a word. She takes this as a cue that he’ll stay quiet and listen to her.

“Everything you’re thinking happened,” Madge says in a quiet, shaking voice. “He was posted at the military base within the mountain, and made me live in the quarters he was assigned to with his wife.”

“Nancy,” Gale breathes, the pieces of the puzzle coming together.

“Yes,” Madge affirms, nodding her head. “Nancy was who saved me every time I tried to kill myself. Even when the mountain was blown up and we were able to escape, Nancy took us to her Father’s house, where we were able to hide out for the rest of the war.”

“If she’s such a nice person, why would she ever marry a piece of shit like Thread?” Gale demands.

“Her Mother died when she was very young,” Madge explains. “It was just her and her Father, who was a terrible man. Thread had been her neighbor. She said he had been charming, and friendly, and promised to save her from the hell that was her life. It was too late when she realized that he was the devil himself.”

“Did her Father do anything to you?” Gale asks tightly, as the horror of her story only grows.

“Not initially,” Madge says bitterly. “We lied and told him I was Nancy and Thread’s daughter, and that he wanted us to hide with him till the war was done. He was too afraid of Thread to do anything.”

“And when the war ended?” Gale hedged.

Madge reaches a hand up to touch her cheekbone, right beneath her eye.

“He tried to kill Nancy,” Madge whispered. “He was choking her. She was practically purple. I grabbed the nearest lamp and smashed it over his head, but it wasn’t enough. He would have killed me too, but there had been a knitting needle just by my hand.”

Madge looks him right in the eyes. “I stabbed him in the neck. Some of his blood got into my mouth.”

Gale opens his mouth to say something, but no words come out. Madge, sweet, untouchable Madge, was a killer. Maybe the war tore them all apart, and what was left when it was over just small patches of themselves, stitched back together by crude survival, unidentifiable to people they used to know.

“A few hours later, the official ceasefire was announced,” Madge continues bitterly. “Some District officials went around, trying desperately to restore some order. They never asked for Nancy’s Father, and we never told them. Just asked a few questions, took my picture, and left.”

“The only thing that brought me peace in those following days was staring at the rubble that was once the base,” Madge tells him with a humorless chuckle. “I would just stand, and stare at it for hours, wishing I could dig up Thread’s body, just to beat him to death once again.”

He’s only ever heard of such bitter, all-consuming anger in one other person: himself.

“But then,” Madge’s lips tip upwards in the smallest of smiles. “I found out I was pregnant. Despite not eating, sleeping, or taking care of myself in any caliber, my body had managed to protect my baby. My gift for surviving hell.”

Gale looks at his hands shamefully. As much as it filled him with uncut, unadulterated fury that Thread had dared to do such a despicable act to such an innocent girl, Gale understood why Madge loved her son. The only family Madge had, he had advocated for its abortion. As if he couldn't have sunk any lower.

“So do you see now?” Madge whispers wetly. “Why I kept Glen? Why I love him so much? He’s all I have Gale, in this whole world. He keeps me grounded- if he weren’t in my life, I would have  _taken_ my life years ago.”

“I understand,” Gale whispers back, finally bringing his eyes up back to hers. They’re wet as they watch him, and his throat is so dry, he nearly chokes. “I’m sorry about what I said….what I did. What I didn’t do.”

Madge just shakes her head.

“I forgave Thread,” Madge says softly, taking Gale by complete surprise. Surely he had misheard her. That monster deserved many things, but forgiveness was not one of them. “If I didn’t, the hate, the anger, it would have poisoned me from the inside out. You must do the same thing with yourself, though there is far less to forgive in your case.”

“I can’t,” Gale chokes, wildly shaking his head. He tries to, almost childishly, scoot backward from her, but she leans down and captures his hands, anchoring him.

“You can,” Madge says firmly but kindly. Her face is close, and all Gale can think is that she really is an angel, to have been through the very flames of hell, but still come out soft. “You were a 19 years old boy, and you knocked yourself down in your own warpath. You always had a good heart Gale, it’s time you reclaim it.”

His hands shake in her hold, but for the first time, in a very long time, Gale feels something light flutter in his chest. It means more than he can admit, to have Madge still believe in who he was. Who he can be.

“Ok,” Gale’s voice cracks embarrassingly, but at that moment, he doesn’t find himself caring. “But I can’t do that if you disappear again.”

Madge pulls away from him and frowns lightly. Another soft breeze blows, momentarily obscuring her face from his view as her hair flies, but once they settle again, she’s smiling softly at him.

“Let’s reclaim our hearts then,” Madge says in that silvery voice of hers, her eyes shining not with tears, but with hope. “Together.”

The screams finally- _finally_ grow silent.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yikes....talk about angst. Next ch. will be Madge's POV. I hope you enjoyed reading!


	2. Chapter 2

“He’s still very handsome, isn’t he?”

“Hm?” Madge looks up from the vegetables she’s dicing to where Nancy stands by the sink, rinsing off the rice they’re about to cook.

“Gale,” Nany clarifies, with a coy look. “You used to talk a lot about him back in the base, and he hasn’t lost any of those good looks.”

“I hadn’t noticed,” Madge nearly snaps at the older woman, going back to cutting the carrots with more force than was really necessary. She loved and respected Nancy as if she were Madge’s actual mom, but even Madge had her limits.

“Oh muffin,” Nancy sighs as she pours the now clean rice into the pot on the stove. “It’s clear he loves you and Glen both, what are you afraid of?”

Madge slams the knife in her hand down and faces Nancy fully. “He doesn’t love me,” Madge says through gritted teeth. “And I don’t want to have this conversation again.”

“And what do you call this?” Nancy’s opened the fridge to pull out some sauces, and gestures to the various strawberry deserts Gale makes sure is always stalked in the Undersee-Wheeler house. “What do you call taking Glen out, so the boy can have fun, and you can relax?”

“How do you know he doesn’t love you?” Nancy continues on stubbornly, ignoring when Madge opens her mouth. “He’s over every day, he treats Glen as if he were his own son, and looks at you like you’re the moon itself, muffin.”

Madge curses her traitorous eyes for brimming with tears, but at the same time, she can only understand why they can’t keep down the wetness. It’s true, she loves Gale just as much as she did when she was 16 and still in love with the world, but the difference between 23 years old Madge and 16 years old Madge, is that the older one knew that happy endings didn’t really exist. You just dragged yourself through the hands life dealt you.

“He doesn’t love me,” Madge tells Nancy softly, blinking quickly to push the tears back from where they came from, and returning to the vegetables. She feels more than pathetic, all these years later, still crying over Gale Hawthorne. “He loves Katniss Everdeen.”

The girl on fire. Not the girl who was ruined. The girl who led a revolution. Not the girl who was used like a doll.

Nancy just _tsks_ _,_ but thankfully leaves the subject alone.

The following months after that eventful day in the park were…definitely more than what Madge had expected. She couldn’t complain, not really, not when Gale’s presence lit up their small apartment with his huge presence, but he still surprised her at how quickly he melted back into that fiery boy she used to know. He smiled more, at least in private, and around Madge, Glen, even Nancy- Gale was rather social, talking and joking like he used to, back when they still lived the summery haze of childhood.

Madge noted smaller changes too, something only a closely trained eye would notice. There was an ease in his gray eyes, that weren’t there when she had first seen him all those months ago when she had gone to the City Hall to update their new address. There was something else about him. The more time she spent with him, the more tension she would watch leave his shoulders and hands, as if their presence quite literally loosened the knot he had tied around his neck, in his own misguided attempt at punishment and redemption.

Madge sighs as she moves over to the stove. She couldn’t lie and say that his presence had made _her_ happier too, more than she had ever been in the past seven years- but Madge knew what she was. She was a charity case through which Gale sought redemption. She should be adamant, she knows, should yell at him and let him know that she and her tiny family are not his little therapy sessions, but how can she? Glen loves him, Madge knows this without a doubt as a Mother, and she can’t rip away someone Glen so clearly holds dear.

The more honest part of her also admits that she doesn’t want him gone either. It’s a train wreck waiting to happen, she keeps telling herself. Nothing between her and Gale can happen, and one day he’ll see past his grief-induced fog and find a beautiful woman that doesn’t carry trauma between her legs and whisk her off into the sunset.

Maybe his wife will be kind, and allow Gale to continue his relationship with Glen. At least then her son will be happy, and that’s all that matters to Madge.

She hears the click of the lock turning, and when she turns around, it’s to the sight of Glen rushing towards her.

“Mommy!” he squeals. Madge barely has time to put the knife on the counter and step away from the stove before he’s leapt into her arms. She staggers under his weight but is able to right herself just in time. She loathes the day she’ll have to tell him she can no longer carry him, but for now, she just pulls her baby boy close.

“And how was your day love?” she asks, pressing several kisses to his sticky face. Wait, what?

“It was real good!” Glen exclaims, revealing his missing front tooth. “Mr. Gale took me to the zoo! There are _so_ many animals, even more than in my books!” Glen tells her with wide eyes.

“That sounds amazing Glen, but what’s that on your face?” Madge asks with narrowed eyes.

“Ah, guilty,” Gale cuts in sheepishly. Madge adjusts Glen so he’s sitting on her hip, so she can look at him. “He really wanted some ice cream so…”

Madge gently sets Glen down and crosses her arms across her chest. Glen realizes he’s made a mistake and looks down at his sneakers guiltily.

“Glen, you know the rule, no dessert before dinner,” Madge chides.

“Oh, leave the boy be,” Nancy suddenly cuts in, swooping Glen up and ticking him, making him erupt into a fit of giggles. “Why don’t I give you a bath while your Momma finishes up dinner, hm cupcake?”

“Ok Aunt Nancy,” Glen giggles, still feeling the aftermath of her tickling.

“A bath?” Madge blanches. “He never has his bath before dinner!”

“He doesn’t have ice cream before dinner too, now does he?” Nancy immediately retorts, looking highly amused as Glen hides his sticky face in her neck. Giving her a very deliberate wink, she takes off with Glen dangling off of her, leaving Madge to fume as she returns to the dinner preparation.

“I’m sorry,” Gale apologizes earnestly as he comes to stand in the small kitchenette. Though her back is to him, she knows exactly where he stands behind her. “He’s very…persuasive.”

“Oh?” Madge says snappishly, still angry over Nancy’s meddling. “Pray tell, how did a six-year-old outwit you?”

“He promised if I got him ice cream, he’d let me talk to you first, to see if I’m actually his Dad,” Gale says casually.

 _“_ _What_ _?”_ Madge nearly screeches, dropping the spatula she had been using to stir the rice with to whirl around and face him. He’s leaning against the rickety table, arms crossed lazily, and his gaze unrelenting as he stars back at her. “How did that come up?”

“One second we were looking at penguins, the next he asks if I’m his Dad,” Gale shrugs. “I asked him why he thought that, and he said that you told him that his...Father had died in the war, and since I fought in the war, he came up with the idea that I somehow survived without you knowing all these years until now.”

If she didn’t have to budget so meticulously to buy groceries, she would have buried her face in her hands and let the dinner burn on the stove, but she can’t, so she turns around and resumes cooking.

“And what did you say exactly?” Madge asks tightly, hands shaking as she seasons.

“Told him that I needed to check with you.”

He’s moved over so he’s standing right beside her, just a few inches of space in between them.

“I’ll talk to him,” Madge tells him tiredly, resolutely not looking at him. “I’m sorry you were forced into that awkward situation.”

“Madge,” she’s startled by the sudden feel of his hand lying gently on her forearm. He’s never once ever touched her, but since their fated reunion, he’s been extra careful in making sure he doesn’t casually brush against or stand too near- something Madge had noted early on. She had appreciated his discretion, because truthfully, she hadn’t been ready to be touched by a man, in any sense, but now, with his touch so gentle, so _patient_ against her bare skin, she can’t help but be filled with a warmth she thought she had lost so long ago in those winter nights in the base.

He too recognizes the importance of this bridge they’ve crossed, she can tell by the look in his eyes. He moves his hand to pick up the pot’s lid to cover the food, letting it simmer. In the back of her startled mind, she wonders how he knew to do that.

“I would be.. _honored_ , to have Glen call me Dad,” Gale tells her quietly, his gray eyes never once looking away from her blue ones. “It’s totally up to you, but before you make a decision, I just want you to know that I really do love that little boy.”

“Don’t you remember who his Father is?” Madge chokes out through her sudden tears because this can’t be happening. He’s supposed to marry a pretty woman and visit Glen once a month-not be standing here and asking to be his _Father_. “What if he grows up to be just like him?”

“He won’t,” Gale says strongly, reaching down to brush a tear off her cheek. Madge can distinctly remember the last time a man had touched her so tenderly: it had been her Father, a day before the bombs fell; he had kissed her forehead before leaving for work. “Because he’s _your_ son, not that filthy fuck’s. And besides, you’re an amazing Mom, and it shows in Glen. Kid has a heart of gold, just like his Mom before him.”

“No,” Madge shakes her head vehemently, taking a step away from him. “You don’t understand what you’re asking. How will you be able to get married and have kids of your own if you claim Glen as your son?”

Gale frowns deeply. “I-“

“All clean Mommy!” Glen decides to burst out of the bathroom at that moment, a flustered Nancy behind him. Serves her right.

“He wasn’t half as fussy last time I gave him a bath,” Nancy huffs.

“That’s because that was over two years ago,” Madge says flatly, moving away from Gale completely to take out plates and glasses from the cupboards.

“I was a good boy, Aunt Nancy,” Glen grumbles, as he climbs into his chair. Instead of joining him at the table, Nancy goes to the door.

“I think I’ll be going over to have dinner with Ethel tonight,” Nancy announces as she shrugs a light coat. “Might stay the night too.”

“Have fun Aunt Nancy!” Glen waves to her as Gale nods cordially. Madge just glares at her. Ethel is the shop owner across the street that Nancy works for. She’s an elderly woman that lives above the store, and only bugs Nancy to come over so she doesn’t have to do any cooking herself, so Madge knows for a _fact_ that the only reason Nancy is leaving is because of some ill-formulated plot to push her and Gale together.

Dinner is actually rather normal, all things considered. Glen takes up most of the talking with his chatter, and Madge stays busy cleaning up the sauce around his mouth that he keeps on smearing. She tries to ignore Gale’s presence because this isn’t normal. At least, it won’t ever be _her_ normal, and getting accustomed to it will only end in disaster. She stopped nursing her son years ago, but her body won’t ever stop nursing the sorrow that takes up the place in her chest cavity, and Gale deserves better than to be chained to a rambunctious little boy, and his shell of a Mother.

“Thank you, Madge, the food was delicious,” Gale speaks to her for the first time during the dinner, and she’s forced to look at him. His smile is genuine, but there’s something troubled, in his eyes. Madge looks away before she can think too much into it.

“It was yummy,” Glen agrees seriously. “You’re the best, Mommy.”

“And you’re the best, baby,” Madge teases, knowing Glen doesn’t like being called a baby anymore, even though he is, and always will be her baby.

“I’m not a baby,” Glen pouts. “Right Mr. Gale?”

“Sure,” Gale grins. “But I think big boys should wash their hands and face, yeah?”

Madge watches Gale lift Glen effortlessly and leads him to the sink, where Glen dutifully washes his hands. She wants to be angry at him, for using her son to manipulate her answer, but Glen looks so…in place in Gale’s arms. Madge looks down at the cracked table surface in grief.

She wishes Gale was his Father. And everything that implied. But it wasn’t meant to be, she knew that deep in her hollow bones. She was born to be alone; Glen had just been her gift from the heavens for having her body assaulted by a carnal viciousness at such a young age.

Glen is given his warm milk, and Madge watches to make sure he brushes his teeth properly.

She’s tucking him into the bed he shares with her, when he calls for Gale, who’s still at the table, but drinking from a mug of coffee he fixed himself.

“Will you sit with me Mr. Gale?” Glen asks hopefully. “While Mommy reads me the bedtime story?”

“Sure,” Gale answers immediately, walking over to sit on the other edge of the bed. Glen likes to sleep in the middle, so they’re both equidistant from him.

Madge has been telling him the same story since he was two years old, but he never seems to bore of it. She’s glad he knows it verbatim, though, it will make what’s coming in the future easier to deal with. He’s figured out that the story she tells him holds some parallel to the actual war that was fought before his birth, but she’ll leave it to the schools to fill in the blanks for him.

“Once upon a time, there once lived a spider with 73 legs,” Madge begins, lowering her voice for dramatization. “All of his legs were made of iron that was as white as snow, and he ruled the land with great fear and terribleness.”

“Every year, the spider would demand that two baby birds from each village in the kingdom come to his palace to fight till the death. Only one bird could go back to his family, and since the maggots that served the spider made sure every bird in the kingdom’s wings were tied tightly together, the birds could not fly back to their parents, who cried every night, hoping their baby would come back to them.”

“At the end of each horrible battle, the feathers of the fallen birds would be collected, and melted to make a new leg for the horrible spider,” Madge whispers ominously.

“One year, however, a brave and beautiful bird was forced to go into this terrible battle to save her sister bird. Only, once she was there, she and another bird decided that they would no longer play these sick games the spider had created.”

“So what did they do?” Glen asks, even though he’s heard this story every day for as long as he can remember. She’s acutely aware of Gale’s heavy gaze on her, but she doesn’t look away from her eager son.

“They used their beaks to cut off the ropes that bounded each other’s wings. They helped each other, instead of fighting each other, like the spider wanted! As soon as her wings were free, the bird leapt into the air, and spread her wings, and they-“

“Caught on fire!” Glen interrupts excitedly. Without fail, that’s always been his favorite part of the story.

“Yes,” Madge says with a smile, leaning forward to kiss him on the forehead. “The fire was so bright, that not only did it let every bird in the kingdom see they did not have to live under the wicked spider’s reign anymore, but it even the Queen Bee, who had her own underground kingdom, see the flames..”

“The spider was able to conduct one more mass battle, where he received his final leg, before the birds and the bee’s decided to join forces to take him down forever,” Madge tells him seriously.

“The Queen and her bees are fighting because they don’t want to be underground no more,” Glen explains to Gale, who’s listening raptly.

“Ah,” is all he says, nodding at Madge to continue.

“The birds fight, the bees fight, and finally the war is over,” Madge finishes sadly.

“But it’s not!” Glen exclaims. “Because the Queen was evil, and the bird on fire took her down too!”

“She did,” Madge agrees with a small laugh. Oh, she truly did. “And all was well.”

By this time, usually, Glen can barely keep his eyes open and snuggles into his pillow, moments away from a deep slumber, but tonight he looks down at his small hands and sighs.

“What’s wrong baby?” Madge asks worriedly, having never seen Glen act like this before.

“You know how you foughted in the war Mr. Gale?” Glen asks quietly, drawing small designs on the blanket with a finger, opting to ignore Madge.

“Yes?” Gale answers him confusedly. “What about it?”

“Mommy was in the war too,” Glen explains sadly, leaving Madge to gape at him. “And something bad happened to her, Aunt Nancy told me.”

Aunt Nancy just landed herself a spot in the doghouse, that’s for sure.

“I know,” Gale says, just as sadly. “Your Mommy is an amazing lady, she doesn’t deserve anything bad.”

“Yes,” Glen agrees. “But sometimes she cries on me when she thinks I’m sleep.”

“Oh Glen,” Madge reaches over to pull her son into her arms. “I’m so sorry my boy, I-I didn’t know that woke you up.”

“Oh, Mommy,” Glen sighs, and Madge is taken back by how _mature_ he sounds. “You can’t hide the sad in your eyes.”

“As I was saying,” Glen continues with her arms around his small body. “Mommy said my Daddy was a brave soldier who died in the war…but maybe if you know him still, he can make Mommy happy again?”

Madge can’t stop the tears, how can she? Her little boy, not yet even seven, had not asked Gale to be his Father to fill a vacancy in his own life, but because he was trying to fix his broken Mother. Sweet, innocent Glen, who knew nothing about the mechanics of sex, had only asked if Gale was his Father, because in his rosy, childish world, Mothers and Fathers held hands, occasionally kissed on the lips, and made each other happy.

“I’m supposed to worry about you, not the other way around,” Madge tries to scold him, but her tears ruin the effect.

“Mr. Gale, I’m sleepy, can you please make Mommy happy?” Glen asks innocently, before quickly ducking himself under his blanket. She would never have pegged her son as a matchmaker, but here they were.

Gale walks around to where she’s sitting and offers her a hand. She rubs away her tears with the back of her hand and lets herself place her hand into his. The feel of his fingers curling around hers fills her with…the nicest sense of security.

He gently tugs her back into the kitchen, where to her shock, he pulls her into his embrace.

“I’m so sorry Madge,” he whispers wetly against the crown of her head, not caring her scalp is greasy, and that she smells like fried onions. “I should have been there for you…I should  have saved you.”

“Gale,” Madge says tremulously. For so many years, she’s been cold to the world, the only thing that brought her ease her son, but now, in his large arms, her blood is on fire. “You couldn’t have done anything. What happened to me wasn’t your fault, it was-“

“It _was_ mine,” Gale denies strongly, pulling away from her and cupping his face in his hands. “Forgive me, Madge, please.”

Madge just stares at him. First, it had been sheer willpower that had kept her alive when Thread had her imprisoned, then sheer luck that she and Nancy were able to escape the explosions. Manipulation kept her alive with Nancy’s Father, and finally, it was Madge herself, who saved both herself and Nancy by killing the wretched man.

For so many years, Madge has had to look out for herself-with no one to care for her, but now, she thinks the universe owes it to her to allow herself to be the damsel in distress just this one time; to let her be stolen away by the knight that holds her so tenderly now.

He’s luckily already bent over a little, because otherwise their height difference is so exaggerated, that pulling him by the collar wouldn’t have been enough.  So, she pulls, and his lips to come to rest against hers.

Neither of them moves. Madge has never willingly kissed someone before, and isn’t really sure of what she needs to do. Before she can be overwhelmed by self-doubt, Gale’s hands settle on the curve of her hips and pull her close to him, where he kisses her so deeply, she forgets how to breathe.

She’s so lost in the greatest kiss she’s ever had, that it takes her a moment to comprehend what Gale had just said.

“Fuck, I’m sorry Madge, I shouldn’t have done that,” Madge finally hears, and she dazedly opens her eyes to see Gale looking mournful in front of her.

Immediately, the total bliss that had consumed her is evaporated, and she is reminded why she had decided to, so many years ago, to build walls around her that must never crumble.

“I understand,” Madge says in a hollow voice. She felt so numb at that moment that she was sure that if Gale punched her, she wouldn’t even feel it. “You should leave.”

“Madge no,” he tries reaching for her, but stops at her violent flinch. She won’t ever let a man touch her again. They only use her body and then throw her away. “Please understand, I loved kissing you, but I don’t want to trigger…any bad memories.”

 So that’s all he thought of her. A raped little girl, who was so pathetically alone and miserable, that she couldn’t have even aborted the baby inseminated by violent rape.

“Well you did,” Madge lies, feeling like a robot in her movements to get away from him. She knew what she was, why had she kissed him? “So get out of my house.”

“Madge-“

“Get _out_ ,” Madge snarls, whirling around to glare at him. “Leave, and don’t ever come back!”

She can’t find it in her to care about the crushed expression on his face. He had everything-a nice job, a big family, and she was a victim that would never be able to overcome what had happened to her.

She makes sure to cry herself out in the bathtub before finally joining Glen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The idea for both this story and the one Madge told Glen was from the song "Dirty Paws" by Of Monsters and Men, which is actually a story of how WWll was explained to the singer as a child by her Grandfather. I really hoped you enjoyed reading.
> 
> Next chapter will be half Madge's POV, and half Gale's, and the epilogue will be a time skip, from Glen's POV. Thank you for reading!!


	3. Chapter 3

At around 5 am, Madge figures if she can’t fall asleep by now, it’s better to just get up.

Slipping out of the bed silently, body aching with exhaustion, she pads over to the kitchen and for a moment just stands at its entrance, staring at the spot where Gale had stood just hours ago, now covered in shadows.

Her heart feels like a stone in between her ribs as she takes out a kettle to make some herbal tea. It will hardly be of any help for the raging headache she has currently, but if she stands by idle for just a second more, she’s afraid she’ll burst into tears once more.

She did the right thing, by telling her to go away. Madge just couldn’t do a real relationship, and Gale only deserved the real deal.

She’s halfway through her mug when Nancy comes back. She looks at the bed first excitedly, and then with a confused look. Her eyes narrow when they land on Madge.

“Where is he?” Nancy whispers, stepping into the kitchen.

“I don’t know,” Madge whispers back, shrugging her shoulders.

Nancy crosses her arms and glares down at her. “What happened?”

A muscle in her cheek twitches as she forces her face to remain impassive. “Nothing.”

Nancy rolls her eyes exaggeratedly. “Glen told me what he was going to say during his bath time, now tell me what happened before I ask the boy.”

“Is this some sort of soap opera?” Madge snaps, setting her mug down loudly.

Nancy’s face goes from inquisitive to anxious. “What did you do, Madge?” she asks worriedly, taking a seat next to her.

Madge swallows tightly and stares into her mug. “I told him to leave...and never come back.”

Instead of replying, Nancy just slumps in her seat and covers her face tiredly.

“Why?” Nancy finally asks, looking at Madge with unconcealed sorrow.

“Because,” Madge pauses as tears well in her eyes; that’s how much the truth stung. “Because he deserves a woman, not a tragedy.”

 

* * *

  
Before, Madge lived day to day. If she just got through the day, that would be an accomplishment. She didn’t look to the future, because she knew she didn’t have one, so she just poured all of her focus and love into her son, desperate for him to live the life she never had.

But ever since Gale Hawthorne re-entered her life, all she could think of was the future she once daydreamed of, and how sometimes it was so close to happening, she could taste it like honey on her tongue.

All that’s left now is the bitter taste of _what-if_ , and the relentless heartache of loving a man and not being loved back by him.

She dreamt of him. She saw him in random men on the street. She ached to be held in his arms again. But she didn’t call him. She couldn’t. And besides, if he had really cared for her, he would have fought for her, wouldn’t he?

The perpetual silence of the house phone only further depressed her.

She was not the only one so perpetually affected by his absence. Glen had grown sullen and reclusive and had recently begun to exhibit behavioral problems that weren’t there previously. Nancy worked more often, and whenever she looked at Madge, it was a mixture of pity and disappointment. Madge hated it.

Another side-effect of Gale gone was the resurgence of her flashbacks. Previously, they were sparse and had specific triggers. They had reduced substantially when Gale became a fixed part of her routine, but with him gone, she was having a flashback almost daily, each growing worse and more intense.

She had had a particularly nasty flashback this morning in the bathroom when she was brushing her teeth, and as she walked Glen to the park, she could still feel Thread’s hands on her, which made her right hip ache severely. During her time in the base, Thread had been...so forceful with her, that he had broken her right hip, and it had never healed back properly. Most days, the pain was more than manageable, but with the ghost of his hand on her hip….it was growing impossible to even walk straight.

By the time they reached the playground, Madge was irritable, exhausted, and in pain. Glen pulled away from her wordlessly and went to go swing sullenly.

Normally, Madge would try to raise his spirits, but today her nerves were so frayed that she marched over to him, knelt in front of him, and grabbed his arms in her hands tightly.

“You can’t keep acting like this!” Madge hisses, shaking him a little. “I don’t work so hard for you to be...be so miserable!”

Instead of looking scared, like most children do when they’re scolded, Glen just glares at her.

“You made Mr. Gale go away!” Glen accuses, tearing his arms out of her grip. “He told me he loved us, and you made him go away!”

Madge feels faint, but she pushes on. “That doesn’t give you the right to act so horribly towards me! So, because Gale loves you now, you don’t love _me_ anymore?”

Glen’s eyes fill with tears, and Madge feels like the worst person alive. Who spoke to a six-year child so cruelly. Before she can apologize, Glen speaks again.

“It’s because I love you I’m sad,” Glen says quietly. “I can’t be happy if you’re not happy. I love you, Mommy.”

Madge picks him off the swingset and walks away from the eavesdropping mothers, holding him tightly against her.

She takes him underneath a large oak tree and sways with him in her arms, ignoring the pain in her hip.

“I am happy,” Madge lies. “All I need is you, Glen. Alright? I told you, you mustn't worry about me.”

“Your eyes are empty,” Glen whispers wetly against her neck. “They scare me.”

It’s then that Madge realizes just how terrible of a mistake she’s made.

 

* * *

  
“What about this one?” Nancy asks, pointing to an outfit from a magazine she swiped from work.

Madge crinkles her nose. “It’s a bit...much.”

They were deep in Operation Get-Gale-Back, which included dressing up nicely, going over and surprising him with his favorite food, apologizing, and hopefully, _hopefully_ , getting him back.

But in between their small paychecks and Madge’s hefty prescription bills, there isn’t much money left over, and every welfare check Madge gets goes straight into Glen’s college fund, so it’s out of sheer luck, that Ethel, the shopowner Nancy works for, took pity on Madge and allowed her to borrow an outfit for free.

If only they could decide on something.

“What about this?” Nancy asks again, pointing to a very tight, very short dress.

“Whatever kind of reunion you’re imagining is not what’s going to happen,” Madge snaps, pulling the magazine from her hands, and paging through it herself.

“Yeah, but you wish it was,” Nancy says under her breath, mindful that Glen, who’s on the other side of the apartment, playing with his toys, doesn’t hear.

Madge glares at her, but only half-heartedly. It was true, for the first time since she was 16 was she able to imagine….being with a man, and not wanting to die immediately.

Her fingers still as the perfect dress comes to view.

“This,” Madge says with a nostalgic smile. “I want this one.”

“White, huh?” Nancy raises an eyebrow. “Looking to skip straight to the wedding?”

“No,” Madge chuckles quietly, feeling in that moment like a silly teenager again. “It’s just a pretty dress.”

 

* * *

 

Madge huffs, balancing the bag filled with glass food containers in one hand along with her purse, and Glen in her other arm.

Gale had given her a piece of paper with his cell phone number, home phone number, office number, office address, and home address. “If you ever need to contact me,” he had told her. What Madge hadn’t realized when she first looked at his address was how _far_ it was.

This was their second connection, and Glen had grown tired and grumpy long ago, so Madge has to trudge up the stairs leading out of the subway only to wait for 15 more minutes at a bus stop with no bench.

Once the bus pulls up, there’s only one seat available, so Madge sits Glen down while she continues to stand, the arches of her feet aching terribly in the heels Nancy had forced her into.

“When are we going to see Mr. Gale?” Glen whined, looking tired and hungry. Madge ran a hand through his sweaty hair, trying to tidy it again.

“Soon, baby,” Madge answers. “We’ll get off at the next stop, and it’s a five-minute walk from there.”

Glen huffs but stops complaining, looking relieved to be back in air conditioning.

When they get off, Glen holds out his arms again and Madge holds in a sigh and picks him up, both her hip and feet aching something smart.

Slowly, they make their way to the tall apartment complex Gale lives in. Standing outside it, Madge can’t help but feel self-conscious about her living arrangements, and wonders if this is how Gale felt whenever he came by to sell her strawberries.

Setting a grudging Glen down, Madge presses the intercom button for Gale’s apartment.

_“Hello?”_

Madge almost drops the bag of food.

It was a woman who had answered. There was a woman in Gale’s apartment. Why was she so stupid?

“Sorry,” Madge croaks. “Sorry-I,” she lets her finger fall off the button as she takes a step back, the entire world spinning as she tries to process this all.

“I’m tired and hungry and hot!” Glen shouts, stomping his foot. Madge looks down at her crying son, but she can’t breathe- there’s something clutching her hip.

She turns around.

Thread stands behind her.

“No!” Madge screams, dropping the food bag, dimly aware of the glass shattering. Glen, she has to save Glen, but when she looks around, Glen is gone. In fact, all of 2 is gone, it’s just her and Thread, back in his room in the base.

“Look at you,” Thread sneers. “All dolled up, eh? Come here, whore.”

“No!” Madge screams again as she begins to sob, she wants to run but it’s as if her legs don’t work anymore, she’s rooted in terror. “Please, _no_ _!"_

“Madge,” Thread says, and Madge screams again. This can’t happen to her, not again. She doesn’t have enough strength for survival, not anymore.

_“Madge!”_

The entire world goes black.

 

* * *

 

“You like it?” Gale asks, gesturing to the pizza in Glen’s plate. The boy just shrugs, still looking miserable.

“Is Mommy going to be ok?” Glen asks quietly, his lower lip trembling dangerously as he looks up at Gale.

Gale sighs and runs a hand through his hair.

“Yes,” he says finally, because he truly believes that. Brave Madge could do anything. “We just need to let her rest.”

Glen nods and goes back to eating silently, letting Gale slip back into thought. He had had a feeling when his maid told him a woman had buzzed, that it was Madge, but when he had gone down, he had wished it was anyone _but_ Madge.

She had looked so terrified, so helpless as her mind convinced her that something awful was actually happening to her. She didn’t deserve to go through that. She didn’t deserve any of what had happened to her. Not for the first time, Gale wishes Thread was alive, so he could kill him with his bare hands.

“You watch cartoons?” Gale asks Glen. The boy actually perks up at this.

“Mommy says it’ll rot my brains,” he tells him with a frown, looking as if he didn’t believe this.

“Well, I think a few episodes won’t do any irreversible damage,” Gale chuckles. “C’mere.”

He leads Glen to his large sofa, turning on the TV and having to search up the cartoon channels. When he finds one, he gives Glen the remote and goes into the kitchen to get him another slice of pizza and some juice. When he’s satisfied the kid is fine, he goes into the hallway to walk to his bedroom.

He opens the door quietly and peeks in. Madge is still asleep.

Sighing, he closes the door behind him and pulls up a chair to sit at her side. In her sleep, she looks so without worry, that it’s as if he’s staring at that beautiful merchant girl who was too good for him again. Too good for anyone in 12, really.

She was still too good for him.

She was a victim of war, he was a perpetrator of war. How fucking dumb of him to think he actually had a chance with her. What a miserable piece of shit was he to think being with her would erase what he has done.

Madge gasps loudly as her eyes fly open, and Gale can tell immediately she’s still stuck in a flashback.

“Hey,” Gale says soothingly, cradling her face between his hands gently. “Come back to me.”

Slowly, he watches the mist leave her eyes, and finally, she’s staring back at him.

“I’m sorry,” Madge rasps, tears leaking out her eyes and making his hands wet. “I’m so sorry, I thought…”

“It’s ok,” Gale whispers, forcing himself to remove his hands from her soft skin. “You don’t have to apologize. I get them sometimes too.”

Madge lets out a shuddering breath as she nods, her eyes closing again. For a while, they’re both silent, and Gale is unsure of what to say. Finally, unable to stop himself because he’s a total fucking idiot, he says, “Pretty dress.”

Madge’s eyes fly open and Gale wishes he could punch his 18 years old self in the face-how could he be so blind to a smile so bright?

“Thanks,” Madge says shyly. “I...I thought you’d like it.”

Gale stands up suddenly. “We can’t do this.”

Madge looks at him in both shock and confusion. “Do what?”

 _“This,”_ Gale stresses as his blood pressure goes up. “I can’t- I can’t be with you.”

Madge sits up, an apologetic look on her face. “Gale, I’m sorry I said those things to you, I didn’t mean them.”

Gale shakes his head.

“That’s not it,” he tells her honestly. “I would never ask something from you you wouldn’t be comfortable giving.”

An anxious look begins to creep onto her face. “Then why can’t you be with me?”

Gale sighs scrubs his face with his hands.

“You don’t know what I did,” Gale whispers, unable to look at her. “You don’t know what I specifically did. You don’t need another evil man in your life.”

For a moment, Madge doesn’t say anything, just looks at him closely. Gale’s skin feels overly tight under her gaze.

“Then tell me,” Madge says finally. “And let me decide if you’re evil.”

Gale considers her words.

“Please,” Madge adds softly. Gale sighs and goes back to the chair next to her.

He starts from the beginning, from when 12 was bombed. He talks and talks and talks, telling her every detail of his descent into madness as hatred overwhelmed him entirely, his soul lost to the ends that could not be justified by their means.

His tears come when he finally reaches Prim, years of grief pouring out as he confesses to killing the little girl who he had loved as his own sister. He tells her his realization of pushing Katniss to the point of breaking. He tells her of his alcoholism and how he’s failed his Ma and siblings.

When he’s finished, he’s close to sobbing, and he can’t even look at Madge. He waits for to get up, get Glen, and leave forever.

“You’re not evil,” Madge says in a kind, but strong voice. Gale scoffs, but Madge keeps speaking. “A man is evil based on his intentions. You built a bomb with the intention of ending a war. You pursued Katniss with the intentions of love. You cut yourself from your family with the intentions of protecting them from who you think you are. You made wrong decisions, several large ones, but you’re not evil. You’re just human. A human with a large, passionate, creative, brave heart.”

Gale looks up to stare at her in disbelief. “How can you believe that, after hearing everything?”

Madge gives him a small smile before climbing out of the bed and right into his lap, her arms going around his neck tightly, anchoring him to her.

“Because I truly believe that,” Madge whispers into his ear. Something crumbles in Gale, and he hugs her to him desperately as he cries into her shoulder.

“I’m a bad person,” Gale insists through his tears. “I’ve ruined lives. Permanently.”

“Then make amends,” Madge says soothingly. “Correct the mistakes you made as a 19-year-old boy.”

“I don’t deserve you,” Gale whispers, even though he doesn’t let go. He’s so so selfish to keep her in his arms, he knows, but he just can’t let her go.

“Do you know why I named my son Glen?” Madge asks suddenly. Gale shakes his head no against her neck. “Can you think of any other guy with a four-letter name that starts with G?”

Gale stiffens as he considers her words, before loosening his grip on her just enough so that he can stare at her. “Did you...did you name him Glen because of of-because of me?”

Madge smiles and nods. “You were too famous to name him ‘Gale’ without everyone knowing, so I went with the next best thing.”

“But I…” Gale trails off dumbfoundedly. “Why?”

“Because I saw the kind of person you were at 13 and fell in love,” Madge confesses shyly. “And I still see that same person in front of me now. He’s hurt, but he’s still there.”

“And do you,” Gale chokes, not totally sure he wasn’t dreaming. “Do you still love him?”

“With all my heart,” Madge answers softly, before leaning forward to kiss him.

He tries to keep the kiss gentle, but it seems that Madge doesn’t want any of that, and soon they’re on his bed, and his hands are in her hair and her hands are clutching his shoulders as he loses himself in her kisses. With each kiss, his hope that he can actually be happy grows, until he’s glowing with joy.

He finally pulls away, chuckling at the disappointed look on Madge’s face. He needs to be sure of something.

“So you don’t care I killed Prim?” Gale asks, wincing at his own words.

“I don’t believe you really killed Prim,” Madge admits with a shrug. “It’s not like you ordered for that bomb to be dropped there. But no, I do care that it happened, which is why I want to help you get rid of the violence that plagues your heart. I want you to heal.”

“You shouldn’t have to deal with that,” Gale argues. “Not when you yourself have so much to heal from…”

“Being with you is healing,” Madge tells him openly. “I love you, Gale, I have for many years, and I think you and I deserve a happy ending. A soft, happy, kind ending.”

“Me too,” Gale whispers in a shaky voice, leaning down to kiss her again.

“I’ll carry your pain,” Gale promises her in between kisses. “I’ll exorcise the demons that haunt you. I love you. Just please-please don’t leave me.”

“Never,” Madge promises back.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the huge pause in updating, but this fic requires a certain...mood to be able to write it.
> 
> Writing Madge and Gale's final conversation was pretty tough, and I really hope I was able to characterize them both well.


	4. Chapter 4

He liked Suzy.

He knew it was messy, getting involved with someone from the lab, but she was nice, funny, kinda shy, and extremely smart, so he really couldn’t be faulted for asking her out for some coffee.

The warm afternoon reminds him to spend more time outside the lab, and is glad for more than one reason that he asked Suzy out; his thesis had been moving along at a frustratingly slow pace, and the change of scenery was exactly the kind of de-stressor he needed.

“Do you like your coffee?” Suzy asks shyly, tucking a lock of blonde hair behind her ear.

Glen smiles at her and lifts up his cup. “It’s delicious, you have excellent taste.” He ends the sentence with a wink, and from the way her cheeks darken, she knows he’s not just referring to cafes.

“I like the location, too,” she continues, looking around with a smile. “2 can be so...noisy. I like the quiet.”

He had to agree, the neighborhood the cafe was housed in was almost sleepy in how slow it was, frankly, he couldn’t remember the last time he had sat outside a restaurant and enjoyed it.

He’s about to thank her for bringing to such a nice spot even though he was the one who asked her out, when a someone interrupts him.

“Glen?” a frail voice calls out. “Glen Undersee?”

Behind Suzy stands an extremely old man, wearing a thick trench coat despite the warm temperatures. Glen has never seen him before.

“That’s me,” he says hesitantly, shrugging at Suzy’s quizzical look.

The man’s thin lips quirk upwards just a bit, deepening all the wrinkles and lines that marr his face.

“I’m your Uncle,” the old man begins, leaning heavily on his walking stick. “Remus Thread.”

Glen clears his throat uncomfortably as Suzy shifts awkwardly in her seat. “I’m sorry sir, but I think you’re confused. I don’t have an Uncle named ‘Remus’.”

“Oh,” Thread says quietly, blinking his beady eyes several times. “I see...your mother hasn’t told you, then.”

Glen’s eyes narrow. “Tell me what?”

“I...should go,” Suzy says with a strained smile. “See you tomorrow?”

Glen just nods at her, not looking away from Thread. All he knew about his Mother’s past was that it was bad, and he wasn’t going to let any connection to it slip away.

“May I?” Thread asks wearily, gesturing to the chair Suzy had just vacated. Glen nods stiffly, crossing his arms over his chest.

Thread sinks down into the metal chair tiredly, holding his cane between his legs, elbows on his thighs.

“Can you tell me about your Mother’s time in the war?” Thread asks him once he’s settled, gazing somewhere over Glen’s left shoulder. “So I know where to start.”

Glen frowns at him as he considers the question.

“She...my grandparents, they were both killed,” Glen begins slowly. “So my Mom and Dad managed to escape to 2, where they met up with my Aunt Nancy, who is technically my great Aunt.”

“And then what?” Thread presses. Glen shifts uncomfortably; this has never been his favorite part of the story.

“My Dad was a rebel, and one day, during the fighting, he got hurt, and was transported to 13. My Mom thought he was dead, and it took my Dad years to find us again,” Glen finishes.

“So your Father is Gale Hawthorne, then,” Thread says softly.

“I’m done answering questions,” Glen snaps, knowing in the back of his mind he’s being rude. “Now it’s your turn. How do you know my Mother?”

“I don’t,” Thread says quietly. “My mistake, child. Us old folk confuse things a lot.”

“But you knew my name,” Glen points out, thoroughly annoyed.

Thread just shrugs. “Your Father is famous, even if you don’t have his surname, you are too.”

 

* * *

 

Glen can’t shake that encounter off.

Even if Thread had tried to (rather poorly) play it off as a fluke, Glen knew that he had come up to him for a reason. A reason he was going to find out.

He ditches the lab and takes the subway back home, a strange mix of anxiety and anger brewing inside of him.

Needless to say, he’s in a strange mood when he opens the door to their penthouse, but he’s quickly distracted by his sisters.

“Glen, Glen!” Hortensia squeals as she runs out of the kitchen. “I’m a tiger!”

Sure enough, her face is painted orange, with black stripes. Wisteria appears a moment later, but she’s a…

“I’m a giraffe!” she giggles, craning her neck to Glen can properly admire her face paint.

“Wow,” Glen grins, leaning down to pick them both up, though they really are getting too big for that. “I should sell you two to the zoo!”

“Put me down,” Hortensia whines, trying to squirm out of his grip. “I’m 10, not a baby!”

Wisteria doesn’t struggle, just rests her head on his shoulder, even though she’s also 10.

“Well, if you’re not a baby, I can do this,” Glen says mischievously. Hortensia’s eyes widen in fear, but before she can protest, he’s tossed her across the room, and she lands with a bounce on the sofa.

Wisteria giggles madly and tightens her grip around his neck. “Don’t throw me!”

“Nah, you’re my favorite twin,” he tells her, sticking his tongue out at Hortensia, who pouts. He settles down next to her on the sofa, and despite her claim of no longer being a baby, she joins Wisteria on his lap.

“How come you’re not at work?” Hortensia asks. “Daddy said you’d be back at 6.”

Glen sighs and rests his head on the plush sofa pillow behind him, closing his eyes. “I was just tired, Tensi.”

“Why?” Wisteria asks, bringing up a small hand to rest against his cheek, even though he hasn’t shaved for a few days and she hates his stubble. Suddenly, she gasps. “Were you up all night talking to a girl?”

“Now Teri, why would I do that when my favorite girls are right here?” he asks in mock-offense, drawing his sister's closer so he can kiss their heads.

“You’re never going to get a girlfriend,” Hortensia sighs, shaking her head.

“I believe in Glen!” Wisteria defends him against their sister. “He’s nice and doesn’t smell.”

Well, it was something.

“How’s Mom?” Glen asks, stopping an all-out debate before it can begin. Immediately, both their faces fall.

“She’s sick again,” Wisteria murmurs, eyes downcast.

“Dad is taking care of her,” Hortensia adds. Ever since Aunt Nancy had died, Dad had taken over the role of Husband, Father, main income provider, and full-time caretaker when Mom got her headaches.

“Let me check up on her real quick,” he says, gently pulling his sisters off of him and walking to their parent’s room.

He knocks once, lightly, before entering.

The curtains are drawn, so the room is dark, the main source of light the glow from Dad’s tablet, though that’s quickly shut off when he sees Glen standing at the door.

As Dad gets out of his bed-side chair and makes his way over, Glen stares at his Mom. He remembers when he was very young, before they had reconnected with Dad, whenever Mom got her headaches, she more or less braved them by herself. Then when they got together, her headaches reduced significantly. It was only when he was 12 and she gave birth to the twins did her weakened state allow for their return. He loved his sisters too much to resent this fact.

“Hey,” Dad greets him once they’re both in the hallway again, door closed behind them. “You’re back early.”

Glen takes in his Father. He was tall, a good three inches more than Glen, and his hair had begun to match his eyes at the sideburns. Despite this, there weren’t too many lines on his face, though the ones he did have were concentrated at the eyes and between his brow. Mom joked it was because he frowned a lot when he was young. Glen saw a lot of him in his sisters.

“Glen?” Dad says cautiously, reaching up to clasp his shoulder. “Everything alright?”

That feeling of anger and anxiety rise once more, though he doesn’t know why. All his life, a part of him has felt...wrong, broken-as if it shouldn’t exist. He never told anyone because what can you say? ‘Hey, there is this hole inside me I’ve felt for as long as I can remember, what should I do?’. For years, he’s filled that hole with anger, but until now, it’s been simmering; put at the back burner, and he has no idea why all of a sudden it’s boiling over.

“I’m fine,” Glen manages to say. An idea suddenly occurs to him. “I thought I’d take the girls out for ice cream?”

Dad smiles at him. “Sounds good. You have money?”

Glen nods and smiles thinly.

 

* * *

 

“I thought we were gonna get ice cream,” Hortensia whines, crossing her arms petulantly. Wisteria also looks upset.

“Real quick,” Glen promises, as he scans Dad’s work badge that he had swiped from the kitchen table. “Dad wants me to do an errand for him, and then we’ll go.”

It’s a Saturday, so the City Hall is technically closed. Which is perfect for Glen, because that means that means there won’t be any of Dad’s coworkers questioning why he’s breaking into his office.

“Just sit here,” Glen tells the twins as they pass the waiting room. “I’ll be right back.”

He quickly slips into Dad’s office and turns on the computer. Immediately it asks for a password.

Biting his lip, Glen types in: _password_

He rolls his eyes as it accepts it. Both his parents were never good at technology, but it’s never really been useful until now.

It takes him a few moments to navigate through the extensive files, but he’s able to find the civilian database.

_Name: Remus Thread_

_Status: Alive_

_DOB: October. Date, 3. Year, 16._

_Occupation: Retired Cartographer_

_Parents: Bertha Thread, Igor Thread_

_Spouse: None_

_Children: None_

_Notes: Brother of Romulus Thread_

Glen frowned at the screen. What the hell did an 82-year-old cartographer want with him? With no other lead, he types in Romulus Thread.

This screen is much different that Remus’s.

_Name: Romulus Thread_

_DOB: September. Date, 9. Year, 25._

_Spouse: Nancy Wheeler_

Glen stops reading. Surely...this could not be his Aunt Nancy Wheeler. It was a coincidence. It had to be.

_Children: None_

_Rank: Head peacekeeper of District 12, before Sergeant in Capitol Army. Stationed in 2’s Army Base._

_Crimes: Loyal to Snow regime until death. Estimated over 200 casualties under his direct orders. Posthumously declared enemy to the state and rebellion._

Below is a list of the names of the civilians Thread saw killed. Glen feels sick as he reads the names, and wonders just what possibly Remus wanted to say to him.

And then, at the bottom are two pictures. The first is a much older one of Thread, possibly taken months before he was killed, but the second one, it’s right after he graduated from the Peacekeeper academy.

Glen stares at the second picture. He stares and stares and stares. And what stares back is his own face-the one he’s seen in the mirror for years, the differences so minute, they’re almost laughable.

He types in Margaret Donner and reads one line, over and over again.

_Suspected to have been captured and brought to 2 unwillingly_

Glen punches the screen so hard that a hole the size of his fist is left in it. An alarm in the building goes off.

“What’s going on?” Hortensia cries as he stalks back into the room. He doesn’t answer and doesn’t even check to see if they’re following him. He’s halfway down the stairwell when the sole security guard on duty intercepts them.

“Excuse me,” the man huffs, clearly out of breath from running up the stairs. “But I’ll have to-”

Glen punches him in the face and watches with detachment as he falls down the stairs.

He looks behind him and sees Hortensia and Wisteria crying and clutching each other, watching him in terror.

“You can cry at home,” Glen says icily, his entire body shaking as he steps over the body.

His vision begins to blur with red as he hails a cab, despite the penthouse only a 15 minute walk away. He can feel that awful energy he’s tucked away for years pour out of him, and he’s done trying to keep it in.

He herds Hortensia and Wisteria in the backseat as he takes the front. The driver shoots the girls a worried look as they continue to sniffle and cry, but just nods warily when Glen tells him the address.

“You girls ok?” the driver asks hesitantly as he pulls into the street. Glen doesn’t bother saying anything. Let them rat him out. Let them call the actual police, for all he cares.

“Y-yes,” Wisteria answers in a small, watery voice. The driver shoots Glen a suspicious look, but Glen just stares ahead, the scenery of 2 meshing into meaningless blobs and colors.

“Well, here you are-” Glen interrupts the driver by tossing him a wad of cash, much more than what the actual fare is, but he’s beyond giving a shit.

He gets out of the cab and turns to see the driver whispering something to his sisters.

_Were they even my sisters?_

They get out quickly and cower before him. The sun, some time, and the suspicious driver are enough to break his haze of anger-just barely, but enough to realize that even if they weren’t his sisters, they did not deserve what he had just put them through.

He holds out a hand for both of them to hold.

“Let’s go,” he says in a strained voice, but both girls look at his right hand. His knuckles are bloody.

“Let’s go,” Glen repeats, withdrawing his hands and walking into the building, the elevator ride up pin-drop silent.

The second the door is open, both girls run straight to their room. It’s better they don’t see this, anyway.

He hears voices and the clinking of silverware against plates in the kitchen, and when he enters, Madge and Gale are sitting at the table, eating lunch.

“Glen,” Madge greets with a smile that almost immediately is replaced with a look of worry when she sees his face. “What’s wrong?”

Glen ignores her for now, instead glaring at Gale. He stares back with concern and says something to him, but Glen can’t hear him. There is a wolf howling deep inside of him, and he finally finally lets himself become the monster that he is, just like his Father before him.

He launches himself at Gale, tackling him out of his chair. He’s able to get in a solid punch to the jaw when Gale throws him off. Glen’s back slams roughly against the fridge.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Gale demands as he slowly gets up. Madge looks torn between going to Gale and him.

“What the fuck is wrong with _you?_ _"_  Glen shouts at Madge as he staggers up. “Thread is my Father, isn’t he!”

Madge’s face goes paper white as her eyes widen. Her lips open and close, but nothing leaves them.

“Glen,” Gale says, his voice much softer, and expression pained. “Let’s talk about this-”

“Yes, let’s!” Glen interrupts loudly, so angry that he’d be able to snap his own neck. “Tell me the truth, was it Thread that brought you to 2?”

Madge nods, tears streaming steadily out of her eyes. Somewhere inside of him mourns the site of his Mother in distress.

“And did he,” Glen breathes, tremors running up and down his spine. “Did he...Was I…”

“Romulus Thread is your biological Father,” Madge whispers, shutting her eyes tightly.

Glen collapses to his knees, tears blurring his own vision. Just like that, all the anger is gone. That empty hole he’s always felt now takes up all of him.

“Why?” Glen cries, not moving his eyes up from the tile. “Why did you keep me?”

Madge falls to her knees and pulls him into her embrace. He remains frigid.

“Because I love you!” Madge exclaims through her tears. “I love you, dear boy, with all my heart!”

The names of all the civilians Thread had killed run before his eyes again. The thought of his own Mother being raped. The realization that Aunt Nancy had been his wife. The undeniable truth that he was just as dangerous as his Father.

Glen removes Madge’s arms from him and stands up. “You’re a stupid bitch.”

Madge’s gasp hasn’t finished before Gale has him pinned against the fridge door, clutching his shirt almost painfully in his hands.

“You apologize to your Mother right now,” Gale snarls, and Glen wants to laugh at how fucking blind he had been. He and Gale held absolutely no resemblance apart from their dark hair. How could he have been so blind?

“I hope you fucking die,” Glen tells him as he shoves him off of him. He’s pretty sure Gale only let’s go out of shock, but he’ll take it.

“Glen, please, let’s talk about this,” Madge pleads, as she follows him to his room.

“Talk about what?” Glen seethes as he begins to fill a duffel bag with whatever he can grab. “Talk about how my Father was evil? Or how I was conceived from rape? Or that you lied to me all these years?”

“I didn’t say anything because it doesn’t matter!” Madge shouts. He’s never heard her raise her voice before. “If you Father was Snow himself, I’d still love you! Because you are _you_ , not him!”

“Just stop!” Glen shouts back. “Stop trying to pretend everything is ok! I’m leaving, and I’m never coming back!”

That was best for everyone. His Mother wouldn’t have to see the product of her rape, Gale wouldn’t have to be reminded of his wife’s rape, and his sisters could grow up without an untamed wolf roaming through their home.

“Please,” Madge begs, falling to her knees. “Please don’t leave your Mommy.”

His heart finds a way to break even more, and he nearly throws his bag down and stays. But he just can’t. He has to do the selfless thing.

He feels like the devil himself as he sidesteps his sobbing Mother, and pauses in the hallway as Hortensia and Wisteria’s still crying faces peer out at him from their door. He considers saying something to them but decides against it. A clean break will be easier to heal from.

Still, his heart crumbles further as he walks past them. Tensi and Teri...Despite everything, he still loves his sisters more than anything, and he knows without a doubt a large part of his heart will be left here with those two forever.

He’s at the door when Gale puts a hand on his shoulder. His grip is light, which surprises him. He would have thought he’d put up more of a fight. Behind them, he can still hear Madge wailing.

Gale’s face is one of sorrow, and suddenly the lines he hadn’t seen earlier that day are all there.

“Every word I said to you was the truth,” Gale says quietly. “You are my son, and I love you.”

Glen bites his tongue so hard, he tastes blood.

“Take care of them,” is the last thing Glen says to him.

 

* * *

 

Turns out there’s a warrant out for his arrest. Fitting.

He keeps his cap on low as he gets off the train, glancing around to find the exit and get the hell out of here.

There wasn’t any particular reason he chose to go to 12 besides the fact it borders the wilderness that he plans to escape to.

He thinks of his “Grandma” Hazelle, “Uncle” Rory and Vick, and “Aunt” Posy, who all live here, and wonder if they knew the truth. Probably.

At this point, his life had an open invitation for anyone to come and piss on it.

Readjusting his duffel bag on his shoulder, he begins to make his way to the woods Gale showed him years ago.

By a miracle, no one stops him and a good twenty minutes later, he’s at the edge of the woods. He turns around to stare at the District his Mother had been born in, the one his Grandfather was Mayor. The one his Father brutalized.

He was making the right choice.

“Goodbye Mom, Dad, Teri, Tensi, Grandma, Uncle Rory and Vick, and Aunt Posy,” Glen whispers to the only family he’s over known. “I love you.”

He turns around and enters the woods.

For a while, he just stumbles around, too dazed to come up with an actual plan besides getting to the lake Gale had told him about.

He ignores his hunger and thirst, and his great need to just collapse and cry, and just continues walking forward, with nothing in front of him, and everything behind him.

“Glen?”

He startles so badly he actually jumps. Whirling around, he faces yet another ghost.

She’s around Madge’s age, though she resembles Gale a lot more in looks. It’s the braid that makes the connection.

“Katniss Everdeen,” Glen says stiffly, remembering his first and only meeting with the living legend when he was just seven.

She nods just as stiffly and doesn’t say anything. He finally notices the bow in her hand.

“Could you point me to the lake?” Glen asks gruffly, pulling at his collar. He had forgotten how hot 12 got.

Katniss narrows her eyes but doesn’t say anything. Finally, she starts walking. Glen assumes he’s meant to follow, so he does just that.

The lake is nearly an hour away, and by the time they reach it, Glen’s head is spinning with dehydration. Throwing away his bag, he dives into the water and opens his mouth to drink.

Only to spit it out quickly.

Katniss watches him with quiet amusement. “You’ll have to boil it first,” she tells him.

Still gagging, Glen nods and pulls himself out of the water. He has nothing to boil water with. Maybe he should have planned things out a bit more.

“Here,” Glen looks up and sees Katniss proffering him a flask.

Hesitantly, he takes it, but once it’s in his mouth, he downs more than half its contents.

When he gives her back the flask, he sees the question in her eyes and realizes the trick he’s stumbled into. He owes her, for drinking her water.

“I know,” Glen says in a hollow voice, looking back out into the water. “I know who my Father is.”

“So you’re running away?” her voice isn’t accusing, just mildly curious. Glen shrugs.

“Good luck,” is all she says, though she doesn’t get up from her spot a little ways from him. Glen can’t help but feel a twinge of annoyance. If she wasn’t going to try and stop him-which was _not_ what he wanted, couldn’t she just get up and leave?

“Thanks,” Glen says dryly, his throat already getting parched again from sitting underneath the relentless summer sun.

“Your sisters should run away, too,” Katniss comments off-handedly.

“And why is that?” Glen snaps angrily, immediately defensive of the twins.

This time it’s Katniss who shrugs. “Because of their Father.”

Glen stares at her in confusion. “What are you talking about?”

Katniss’s fists clench tightly as her expression grows pained. “His bomb killed my sister and hundreds of other kids.”

Everything snaps into place. Gale had always been open about his regrets during the war, and how he worked to right what was wronged, but he had never specified what he had done wrong.

“I…” Glen honestly doesn’t know what to say.

“Something tells me they won’t grow up to do that, though,” Katniss continues softly. “Maybe the potential to do so exists. But that could be in anyone.”

He realizes what she’s doing.

“Well, it’s not just a ‘potential’ with me,” Glen hisses. “All my life, I’ve felt like there’s something wrong with me, and because of that, I’ve always had this-this anger inside of me, and yesterday I...called my Mom a bitch, told Gale to die, and assaulted a middle-aged man.”

“And I’ve killed people,” Katniss counters darkly. “And trust me, I lived many years wanting to die. But now I have to hold onto the hope that...things can get better. That there can be a dandelion in a spring following a terrible winter.”

“I don’t want to be like Thread,” Glen whispers as tears well his eyes. “He-he hurt so many people, and I-”

“You work in a lab trying to cure infectious disease,” Katniss interrupts, and Glen stares at her in shock. How had she known that? “I think you’re forgetting that while you may be half Thread, you’re also half Madge who is...one of the kindest, bravest person I have ever known.”

Glen wondered if his Mom knew that the Girl on Fire thought of her as brave.

“Don’t you hate her?” Glen blurts. “For marrying Gale?”

Katniss looks uncomfortable, and Glen immediately regrets asking, but before he can apologize, Katniss speaks.

“A part of me does,” Katniss admits, looking out to the lake. “But a bigger part is relieved that Gale is with someone like her. And the biggest part of me just wants her to be happy.”

She looks at him when she says this, and Glen realizes why she’s here talking to him. He wonders if she’s repaying a debt to Mom. Or maybe she just loves her.

Glen understands now how this woman was able to lead a rebellion.

“Thank you, Aunt Katniss.”

 

* * *

  
Suzy bails him out.

He promises to pay her back, but she just waves him off.

“Glen,” she stops him before he gets out of her car. “You owe me coffee and several explanations.”

Her straightforwardness surprises him but pleases him too.

He gives her a smile. “I really do. I’ll text you.”

He gets out of her car, and with one last wave, he walks into the park. It’s been years since he’s been here, but he needs some more time to figure out what to say when he returns home as an ex-criminal, and decides his childhood playground is a good place as any to do that.

His overnight in jail had made him realize something.

He couldn't control the circumstances around his birth, but he  _could_ control how it affected him, just like how his Mom did. And he  _could_ control what he went out and did for the world, and if he made a mistake, just like his Dad, he could try again, and right them.

He’s so lost in thought he nearly misses the figure sitting under the tree, but when he catches sight of her it’s like looking back into his past.

Mom sits on a bench, staring blankly out at the playground. Glen’s heart swells with both guilt and happiness as he walks towards her. She doesn’t notice him approaching, not even when he’s standing right beside her, so he crouches down and nudges her knee with his shoulder.

Her blue eyes are vacant when they turn to him, but once they register what they’re looking at, it’s as if he’s watching the switch of life being flipped back on.

“Glen!” Mom gasps, throwing herself at him. He lands on his back on the soft green grass and holds his crying Mom tightly against him.

“I’m so sorry, Mom,” Glen cries into her shoulder, breathing in the scent he’s smelled since he was a newborn. “I love you _so_ much...I’ll never leave again.”

Eventually, they compose themselves enough to sit back on the bench, though Mom doesn’t let go of his hands.

“Glen, truly, from the bottom of my heart, I’m sorry,” Mom apologizes earnestly, face still glistening with tears. “It was wrong to keep this from you, and wronger still to let you think Gale was your Father, and I-”

“He is,” Glen interrupts with a smile. “He is my Father.”

Madge smiles back, as her eyes fill with tears once more.

 

* * *

 

  
They spend hours at the park, just talking before getting something to eat, so by the time they get to the penthouse, it’s well into the night.

“Everyone is asleep,” Mom whispers as they take off their shoes. “You can meet them in the morning.”

“Can I see the twins?” Glen asks hopefully. He’s been out of his mind missing the two, and he can’t go another moment without seeing them. Mom smiles and nods.

Quietly, he opens their door and walks into their room so he stands in the middle between both of their beds.

As always, Tensi has one leg out of her blanket, and Teri has her head under her pillow. For some time he just stands there and watches his sisters sleep, before turning to leave their room.

“Glen?”

Glen turns around, and Tensi is squinting at him sleepily.

“Hi, Tensi.”

“Glen!” Tensi shouts, flinging off her blanket and bounding towards him. “I knew you’d come back!”

Glen catches her as she jumps at him and holds her tightly to his chest, swaying with her in his arms. He glances over and sees Teri staring at him uncertainly.

“There’s my favorite twin,” he says to her softly. Immediately, a huge grin spreads across her face and a moment later he’s holding both of them in his arms again.

“I’m sorry girls,” Glen whispers. “My behavior was unacceptable. Will you forgive me?”

“Maybe,” Tensi mumbles, already half-asleep.

“Just don’t leave again,” Teri sighs.

Eventually, he tucks them both back into bed, kisses their cheeks, and leaves their room. Dad is waiting for him in the hallway.

Immediately, Glen is nearly overcome with shame and ducks his head, unable to meet his gaze.

“You’re back,” is all he says.

“If you rather I wasn’t, I can go,” Glen says weakly, still unable to look at him.

The next thing he knew, Glen was swept up into his Dad’s strong embrace.

“You idiot,” his voice is muffled by Glen’s hair. “Why would I want that?”

“I’m sorry Dad,” Glen blubbered. “For what I said and did.”

“‘Sokay,” Dad whispers, not letting go of him, but Glen needs him to see his face when he says this next bit, so he pulls away just enough so they can look into their eyes.

“I was so freaked out about who Fathered me biologically, that I didn’t consider who Fathered me every other way,” Glen tells him honestly. Dad’s silver eyes shine but he says nothing. “Since I was a young boy, I looked up to you, and wanted to be just like you. You were my hero. You _are_ my hero, and I promise, that everything I do will honor your legacy...Dad.”

“My legacy is pretty shit,” Dad chuckles wetly. “I recommend making a new one.”

“Oh, hush,” Mom says from behind her. She reaches around them and somehow squeezes both of them into her embrace. “Your legacy is of utmost bravery.”

“Agreed,” Glen says, wrapping an arm around his Mom’s back and tucking her closer into him.

“Whatever your legacy, as long as it’s good, I will be proud of you,” Dad says quietly, bringing up a hand to ruffle his hair. “Always.”

And there, in the embrace of his two parents, Glen knew that he would live his life to do good. He’d make sure of it.  
  


 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, it was extremely emotional writing this chapter, partly because it's always bittersweet finishing up a story and partly bc IT WAS AN EMOTIONAL ROLLER COASTER
> 
> Thank you to anyone who gave this short story a chance, it truly means a lot.


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